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Best Stories on the Web
 
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Here, on Short-Story.me we publish only the highest quality stories from great writers around the world. To have work published on Short-Story.me is testament to the finest writing ability. Once published, we share your success with others, announce your achievement on Twitter, and give good writing, great publicity. The site receives in excess of 300,000 page views per month and is the number one site on search engines for various genres.

We have a category for everyone. So why not sharpen your skills, your pencil and your wits and commit that story to paper? Give our followers what they want to read and get your name in front of thousands of readers every week.

Best of luck in your writing endeavors.

 

The Jailbird's Song

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From: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

 

To: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

 

Re: Reduced Sentence for Murder

 

Dear Neal,

 

Thank you for taking the time to work with the police recently.

 

Before I begin, I need to make it clear this message will auto delete 5 minutes from opening or if you attempt to save it. So read carefully.

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Blue Moon Diner

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The soapy water slowly dripped off the square black plate. I watched the tiny lemon-scented bubbles pop and burst down the twirling patterns of ceramic, before I wiped the plate clean with a towel.

I looked up and out the thin dirty window, watching the heavy rain pummel the road. It’s falling so hard, the water is almost bouncing back up to the murky sky above.

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The Scientist

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I slouch in my chair, staring at the man seated in front of me as he eases back to consciousness. He groans softly, probably absorbing the full effect of a massive headache caused by my reliable Taser an hour ago. I say reliable because it made my task a thousand times easier. I had lured the man—who was jogging at the time—to the back of my minivan, asking for assistance in carrying a heavy box. Gosh, men are just so simple. They’ll help any woman with a pretty face. After I stunned him with the Taser, he collapsed in the back of my minivan before he had a chance to lift the box and realize it was empty.

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Mountain of Silver Dust

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Each grain of azurcose was a truncated icosahedron.  She remembered this from school as thousands of them avalanched into her crystal mug of dark brown coffee, “like a million tiny footballs,” she whispered.  Only these had flat faces, whereas the tiles on a football were convex, giving it its smooth rounded shape.  “Thirty-two faces…  Twelve pentagons, twenty hexagons, sixty angles, ninety lines.  Remember that the next time you slurp your darn SyraNova drinks,” she mimicked her Chem teacher’s gravelly voice.

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The Stones

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I watched a small family move into the house across the street a few months back. We learnt they were called the Stones. They did not relate with the neighbors and seemed to love the dark, and the solitude of their house. We thought that to be weird and tried to engage them in conversations, but they looked at us like we were the walking dead. With time, we all learnt to live without disturbing them. They had the right to live their lives the way they wanted, as long as they did not break any laws.

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Grey's Anatomy

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“Is this your first time in there?” The older Felgrey (female Grey) “registered” to her younger Felgrey companion floating in the adjoining Personal Dimensional Transport Easement. “Yes, it is. My time has come” the young Felgrey responded.

“Well, good 12trivatious74 trying to adjust to it, because I never did.” The older Felgrey modified her registrative level from “Actpont47” to “Actpont3” while simultaneously registering an “expresensation X32776” to maintain a sense of privacy.

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Creating Destiny

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It seemed like an awful shame.  A cheap, broken locket was all that was left.  All that represented the deep and true affection between two people.  Now they were both gone and all Katrina had to show of her parent’s love was part of a locket her father had given to her mother almost thirty years ago.  She studied the tarnished heart-shaped frame that held her father’s picture.  Was this what love was all about? - A simple trinket that cost less than a dollar?  She pushed her glasses back onto her nose and swung the locket in front of her eyes with a hypnotic tempo.

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She Really Hates Kids

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She yelled so awfully loud... like she was right in my face, you know?

My friend Ryan and I were about twelve and we had been to see Batman at the cinema. Jack Nicholson was awesome as the Joker and as we walked home we kept trying to laugh like that, swapping lines from the movie.

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